


New Save File

by carefulren



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Jeremy's in Denial, M/M, Slow Burn, and Michael is just pure and perfect as always, boyf riends — Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-09 15:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: "Can I ask you a question, Jer-Bear?"Jeremy, ignoring the stupid nickname Rich has pegged on him since the two started working together, nods before picking up his Dr. Pepper."What's Michael's dick like?"(Or the one where Jeremy swears he isn't gay, and Michael silently pines after his best friend until he's not so silent about it)





	1. Chapter 1

"Can I ask you a question, Jer-Bear?"

Jeremy, ignoring the stupid nickname Rich has pegged on him since the two started working together, nods before picking up his Dr. Pepper.

"What's Michael's dick like?"

Jeremy gasps and ends up choking as the fizzy liquid catches against his throat before spilling down the wrong pipe. He cups a hand over his mouth and coughs, face growing hot and red, whether that be from the lack of oxygen or embarrassment, he's not sure.

"W-what?" He sputters out in between weaker coughs.

Rich tilts his head slightly in question. "You two are dating, aren't you?"

"No!" Jeremy shouts, slamming one palm down against the small plastic break room table. "Why do you think that?"

"Jenna told Chloe, who told Brooke, that she saw you two holding hands last weekend."

Rich's words take a moment to process within Jeremy's racing mind, but then like gears suddenly clicking into place, his mind opens like a wide set of double doors, revealing the one flaw in Rich's statement.

"You do realize what you just said right?"

"Yes?" Rich says, tone sliding upward in question.

Jeremy sighs. "Jenna?" When Rich still doesn't catch on, Jeremy flops back against his chair and crosses his arms with a low huff. "Jenna Rolan said this. You can't believe a word that comes out of her mouth."

Rich hums in understanding. "I know," he starts while half-standing from his creaky plastic chair to fish his phone from his pocket. "She spreads rumors faster than a horny bastard spreads-"

"Okay," Jeremy interrupts loudly with one hand held out in front of him. "I don't need the image in my head." He watches Rich thumb absently through his phone with furrowed brows. "What are you doing?"

"Jenna may spread rumors, but she's also got the newest iPhone."

Jeremy is just in the middle of trying to decipher Rich's cryptic words when Rich suddenly slides his phone across the small table until it stops right before Jeremy.

Glancing down at the small device, Jeremy's eyes go wide. On the screen, there's a very clear picture of him and Michael standing in the game store. He's got one hand clasped in Michael's while the other is holding a Nintendo game high above Michael's head. Their faces are bright, and large smiles are painted across their lips.

"This is not what it looks like," Jeremy starts slowly, a clear contrast to his heart hammering against his chest.

Rich's mouth slides up into a smile, and he arches one brow. "No? I mean the new iPhone camera is really good, and what's that saying? A picture's worth a thousand words?"

"This is stalking," Jeremy mutters under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest as if to shield himself from Rich's devious stare. "We were just messing around."

And they had been. Jeremy can remember the day perfectly. A new Nintendo game came out, and Michael was beyond excited, so much that he almost knocked an elderly couple over while trying to race into the game store in the mall. Jeremy used his long legs to bypass Michael and snatch the game up, waving the box high above Michael's head in a teasing manner. There was a lot of play fighting before Michael promptly threatened to rip his balls off, and Jeremy had flinched at the underlining force behind Michael's tone and had given the game to Michael moments later.

"You two look awfully happy."

"Because we're best friends!"

Rich shakes his head, light laugh slipping past his pressed lips. "Why are you denying this, Jeremy?"

The lack of nickname tells Jeremy that Rich, while smiling, is being frighteningly serious, so he opts to do the same. He leans forward, as close as he can get to Rich with the table resting between them. "Because I'm not gay, and neither is Michael."

Rich actually laughs at loud at this, a bellowing laugh that echoes uncomfortably against the plain white walls of the break room. "Really?" He questions through laughs, though there's an evident hint of disbelief in his tone. "I can't vouch for you, but Mell is as gay, if not gayer, than," he pauses, thinking. "Hell. Lance Bass."

"He's not," Jeremy presses, voice firm. If anyone would know, it would he him. He and Michael tell each other everything, literally everything.

"Ah, Jer-Bear," Rich says, leaning forward and resting his elbows atop the table. "That SQUIP fuck with your brain functions?"

Jeremy tenses at the mention of the SQUIP. For a moment, his mind is consumed with memories, voices, but he breathes out a shaky sigh while mentally shouting 'get a hold of yourself!'

It's been months since all of the shit went down with the SQUIP. There's got to be a time where he doesn't fall into a panic at any slight mention of the stupid pill.

"No," Jeremy snaps. "I just know Michael."

Rich tilts his head. "Do you? Do you know that the rainbow flag patch on his jacket signifies gay pride? Do you know that he spends his breaks looking up gay pride rally events on his phone?"

Jeremy's brows furrow, contrasting against his wide, trembling eyes. No, he thinks. No, he doesn't know any of that. But, why would Michael keep something like this from him? "I didn't know," he whispers, feeling betrayed, confused.

"So, I take it you also don't know that Michael totally has a thing for you?"

Jeremy shakes his head, lungs struggling against his racing heart. There's a small sliver of disbelief still lodged in a back corner of his mind, and he takes hold of it. "No, he doesn't," he mutters lowly.

Rich spits out a harsh laugh. "Do you even pay attention to everything he does for you? He gives you his jacket anytime your cold, he brings you food all the time, hell, he even wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn to drive your sorry ass to work even though his shift doesn't start until later."

"Friends do things for friends," Jeremy counters weakly. Because, he thinks to himself, that's all it is, isn't it? He and Michael have an unspoken pact that they would do anything for each other, which is normal right?

"You don't see the way he looks at you, Jeremy."

Jeremy focuses on the lack of nickname once more. Rich's voice has gone soft, almost sympathetic, and Jeremy locks eyes with Rich's heavy-lidded ones. "I don't... I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

Rich shrugs while absently picking at the remainder of his sandwich. He drops a piece of crust then balls up the scraps in the foil wrapper it came in. "You need to get your shit together, Heere. Because if you don't, I'm going to make a move on Mell."

The door opening behind the two has Jeremy jumping out of his seat. He snaps his gaze over his shoulder to see Michael standing in the door way.

Michael's wide smile falters when he takes in Jeremy's almost defensive stance. "Jeremy? What's wrong?"

Jeremy looks back to Rich, and Rich tilts his head to side, shooting a look that all but screams "I told you so."

"Nothing," Jeremy spits out, harsher than intended, before he gathers his lunch trash and shoves past Michael to get back to work.

"What-" Michael begins, words trailing off as his gaze shifts between Jeremy's fleeing form and Rich. Before he can finish his question, Rich stands and limps toward Michael. Michael frowns as Rich clasps a hand down onto his shoulder before limping off toward the customer service desk.

Confusion and panic unfold within Michael's chest in the form of a panging heart, but he shrugs it off, confident that Jeremy will tell him what's wrong. He turns toward the small lockers against the back wall of the break room and begins thumbing through numbers on his lock.

*****

Jeremy reaches in the box and grabs another jar of pasta sauce, shoving it onto the shelf. He repeats this motion, over and over and over while his thoughts drift toward more pressing matters.

Michael can't possibly be gay and like him. There's just no way. Hell, it's taken the two a full school semester to find their rhythm after the events involving the SQUIP. After he and Christine broke up over Christmas break, he and Michael spent the entire spring semester of their junior year dancing awkwardly around one another, but finally, they found the right tempo, and things shifted back to normal.

At least, Jeremy thought they were back to normal. But if Rich is right, then Michael's holding back on him, and for what reason? This wouldn't change things between them, would it? Even if Michael is gay, Jeremy knows that he, himself, is straight. He's spent the better half of a semester pining after a girl, and so what if he and Christine didn't click in the way he had hoped, that doesn't mean he isn't straight.

"If you squeeze that jar any harder, it's going to shatter."

Jeremy jumps and snaps his gaze toward the owner of the voice. He eyes Michael with furrowed brows before glancing down to his hand when Michael nods toward it.

His fingers are wrapped tightly around a jar of Alfredo sauce, so much that his knuckles have gone a frightening white. "Oh," he laughs awkwardly before loosening his grip and placing the jar on the shelf. He keeps his eyes glued to the rhythmic movement: box, jar, shelf, box, jar, shelf.

"Dude, what did Rich do? Do I need to kick his ass? I'm not above taking him down after work." Michael questions, voice light, almost teasing, but eyes a spitting definition of worry.

Jeremy breathes out a low sigh. He looks up and meets Michael's eyes. "Rich would knock you out in a second."

"Not with his lingering fire injuries," Michael points out, knowing full and well that Jeremy is deflecting something... But what?

Jeremy hums in agreement and drops his gaze toward the floor. He studies the scuff marks on his old, black converses while feeling Michael's gazing boring a hole into his face.

"Seriously, Jeremy. What's wrong?" Michael's voice holds a low vibrato. He's worried, confused; he feels as if he's in the dark, chasing after a small sliver of light that he can't seem to reach no matter how hard his legs pound forward.

It hurts, Jeremy thinks, to hear the concern laced within Michael's tone. While he's used to Michael worrying about him, this is different, and they both know it. "Can we talk? After work?"

"Of course, but-"

_"Jeremy Heere to the front please_."

Both boys glance toward the intercom above them.

"Sorry," Jeremy offers a shrug and starts toward the front.

For the second time today, Michael watches Jeremy walk off with panic swelling uncomfortably within his chest.

*****

When Michael's shift ends, he calls out a goodbye before meeting up with Jeremy, who's seated on a bench at the front of the store.

Michael jingles his keys, and Jeremy wordlessly gets up and follows Michael out of the store and to Michael's PT Cruiser.

Neither says a word as they slide into their seats. Michael shoves the key into the ignition, relaxing against the familiar purr of his engine. He cranks the AC up as high as it will go before shifting the car into drive, but he keeps his foot pressed firmly on the brake.

"What's up, Jeremy?" He questions, craning his head to the side to watch his friend.

Jeremy's gnawing at his thumb nail, struggling to find a good way to ask Michael the one question that's been burning in his mind since his conversation with Rich. After a few moments, he drops his hand to his lap with a low sigh before twisting his body until he's facing Michael. "Can I ask you something?"

Despite Michael's heart threatening to leap out of his throat, he keeps his face cool and calm. "Sure," he offers with a shrug, and Jeremy clears his throat.

"Are you gay?"


	2. Chapter 2

Jeremy lies in bed. It's been hours since he's talked with Michael, and yet he can't get their conversation out of his head. It plays over and over and over like a broken record repeating the same choppy lines to a classic song.    
  
_"Are you gay?"  
  
Jeremy doesn't miss the way Michael's eyes grow wide at the question, nor does he miss the soft gasp that slips through Michael's pressed lips.   
  
"Why do you ask?"   
  
That's enough of an answer for Jeremy. He can't help the anger slowly boiling within his blood. "So you are," he breathes out, voice taking an accusatory stance, and Michael winces at the piercing tone.   
  
"Yeah..."   
  
Fury flashes hot across Jeremy's chest. "Jesus Christ, Michael! Why the hell didn't you tell me?"   
  
It's Michael's turn to fire back, voice not nearly as aggravated as Jeremy's but still angered all the same. "Gee I don't know, Jeremy. Maybe because I didn't want to drop this bombshell on you right as we were mending our friendship."   
  
Jeremy catches onto the wavering pain laced lightly within Michael's tone. He knows; he knows that Michael is still hurt about before. He hums absently in response while silently willing his heart to take a step back.   
  
"How long have you known?" He questions, voice softer, more curious.   
  
Michael shrugs and turns his attention back toward the windshield. He eases his foot off the brake. "I've probably been gay since I was like eleven, but I didn't actually admit it to myself until recently."_  
  
Jeremy shakes his head and curls up onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest. He'll admit he's a little hurt that Michael never shared this with him until now, but he supposes it's okay now that everything is out in the open.   
  
But, he can't shake this feeling that something's off. Michael made no hint that he had a thing for him the rest of the car ride home, but he can't shake Rich's words from his head.   
  
_"So, I take it you also don't know that Michael totally has a thing for you?"_  
  
So what if Michael does a lot for him? He stands by his argument that friends always do things for one another. Hell, he's lost count of the amount of times Jake has come strolling into the store to offer help for free because Rich is still getting used to moving about without a full body cast. And, he’s only been working there a few weeks, so that's saying something.   
  
"Ugh," Jeremy groans, burying his face into his pillow as he waits for the gentle grip of sleep to slide him away.   
  
*****  
  
Morning comes all too quickly for Jeremy. He feels as if he's only been asleep for five seconds, like he drifted off into a black, silent void placed right at the beginning of a dream only to be pulled awake by the shrill of his alarm mere moments later.   
  
"Fuck," he grumbles, blindly reaching out to slam his palm against the flat button on top of his alarm. His room dives into silence, and his eyelids flutter closed, sleep already sneaking back into every crevice of his body.   
  
He's maybe out for two minutes until he jerks awake at the sound of a car horn outside his house. One bleary glance at his clock tells him that he's actually been out for twenty minutes and has about a minute to get dressed and get out the door.   
  
"Shit!" He jumps to his feet and stumbles about his room, smelling clothes lying on the floor to see if they are at least clean enough to wear for the day. He finds a decent pair of khakis and slips them on over his boxers before digging in his hamper for one of his lime green work shirts. Luck is on his side for he finds one at the very bottom that, while wrinkly, looks relatively clean. He slips the cool fabric over his bare torso, grabs his vest, a pair of socks, and his shoes then pounds down the stairs and out the door.   
  
The sun is barely peeking over the horizon when he slides into Michael's passenger seat. He's promptly out of breath and struggling to slide his socks and shoes on, unaware of Michael's amused look.   
  
"Long night?" Michael asks with a light laugh.   
  
Jeremy only offers a grunt in response as he laces up his shoes. Like hell is he going to tell Michael that he's been up half the night trying to wrap his mind around Michael's big news and what that means for the two.   
  
When he finally straightens up, he's met with Michael's signature smile and disheveled hair, a clear indicator that Michael, too, has only just woken up not long ago.   
  
_"... he even wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn to drive your sorry ass to work even though his shift doesn't start until later."_    
  
"Hey, Michael?" Jeremy starts when Michael throws the car into reverse and begins backing out of the driveway.   
  
"Hmm?" Michael hums, eyes glued to his rearview mirror as he masterfully maneuvers the car out of the driveway.   
  
"Why do you drive me to work every morning?" Okay, Jeremy thinks. He could have been a little subtler, but he wants to know, and Michael doesn't always pick up on vocal hints.   
  
Michael freezes, foot slamming a little too hard against the brake. He jerks forward slightly before snapping his attention toward Jeremy, brows furrowed and heart beat quickening to what could easily pass as a mile a minute. 'Because I like you,' he thinks to himself, keeping his face as composed as possible.   
  
"Because your dad has work, and you would melt before you got to the store," he answers, and it's not a lie. Neither wants Jeremy's dad to put his new job at risk to drive Jeremy to work, and Michael knows how hot Jeremy gets. But, he's keeping to himself that every extra second he gets with Jeremy makes his day significantly better.   
  
It's okay, he thinks to himself. Jeremy doesn't need to know that right now, but he will soon, thanks to the latter’s reaction. Once Jeremy’s anger had dissipated, he took Michael’s news of being gay very coolly, so much that Michael is sure now that Jeremy reciprocates the feelings in at least some manner.    
  
Jeremy visibly relaxes at Michael’s answer. "That's right," he breathes out, relief washing over his entire body in slow, steady waves. Michael's just being a good friend, a good bro, and nothing more. He leans his head against the window when Michael turns the car fully and starts down the road, and he’s lazily watching the houses zip by as the two fall into a comfortable silence, with the only sound coming from Michael's low humming.   
  
*****  
  
"To your right!" Michael shouts to Jeremy before moving his character toward a zombie coming from behind.   
  
Jeremy swirls his analog stick to the right and mashes the X button multiple times, watching with narrow eyes as his character swings his long sword repeatedly against a zombie. When the enemy falls, he takes a moment to bury his hand into the bowl of Cheetos resting between him and Michael. He brings a handful of Cheetos to his mouth and stuffs his face before sliding his powder-covered hand against his shorts.   
  
"One more hoard, and we beat the dungeon!" Michael shouts, leaning forward as if the closer he gets, the more accurate each attack will be.   
  
Jeremy takes a quick swig of Dr. Pepper before matching Michael's seated stance. He gets lost within the blinking graphics on the screen as he and Michael move their characters into the final room, where a massive hoard of zombies is waiting.   
  
It's tough, probably the toughest hoard yet. He and Michael are silent as they work through the hoard. The only sounds to fill Michael's bedroom are the faint swishing of swords and loud mashing of buttons. Tension sets deep within Jeremy's shoulders when his character's health bar flashes red, but just like a knight in shining armor, Michael's character jumps in front of his and single-handedly takes out three zombies, the last three.   
  
"Shit," Jeremy breathes out, tension washing out of his body in steady waves. "We did it," he says, shifting his gaze to lock eyes with Michael.   
  
Michael blinks at Jeremy, surprise clear on his face. He can't believe they actually fucking did it. "We did," he says slowly, almost unbelieving, but then the weight of their victory pushes heavily into his mind, and his mouth shoots up into a wide smile. "We fucking did it!"   
  
Jeremy flashes a toothy grin and raises his hand. He laughs when Michael slaps a hand against his open palm, but then the two absently intertwine their fingers, and the picture on Rich's phone dances across his vision. He suddenly jerks his hand away and twists his body back to face the TV, trying desperately to ignore the heated blush creeping up his neck as he drops his gaze to the floor.   
  
What the hell, he thinks. Why's he fucking blushing? Michael is his friend and nothing more. They just got carried away; this shit happens sometimes.   
  
"Jeremy? You okay?" Michael's forehead is creased in concern, but even in the dim lighting, he can make out the red splotches coloring Jeremy's neck.   
  
"Yep," Jeremy answers, tone clipped. He picks his controller up from where he dropped it in the heat of the moment and navigates to the item menu to heal his character.   
  
Michael's eyes linger on Jeremy's neck, that is now a deep red that's creeping up to the brunet's cheeks. A ghost of smile pulls at his lips as he turns back to the game.   
  
Now he's even more confident that Jeremy likes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the response from the first chapter exceeded my expectations. You guys are fucking amazing.


	3. Chapter 3

"Listen, Michael. Jeremy just needs a little push. That's all."   
  
Michael leans against the lockers in the break room and crosses his arms, eyeing Rich nervously. "I don't want to make him uncomfortable."   
  
Rich shrugs and downs the remainder of his Coke. "You said yourself that you are sure he likes you back."   
  
And, Michael thinks, he is sure. It's been two weeks since he's told Jeremy that he's gay, and the not so subtle hints of reciprocated feelings are very evident.   
  
Michael catches the way Jeremy swallows nervously, Adam's apple bobbing quickly against his slender neck, as the two walk side by side, and he's quick to pick up on the light blush that colors Jeremy's cheeks when they accidentally brush hands.   
  
He takes note of the way Jeremy struggles to meet his gaze when climbing into the passenger seat of his car every morning, and he fights back smiles when Jeremy's voice cracks while talking to him.   
  
Jeremy, Michael thinks, is the spitting image of flustered and nervous, both tell-tale signs of someone working through an obvious crush, and Michael couldn't be more thrilled.   
  
He's been waiting a long time for this, waiting for Jeremy to really see him as more than just a trusty sidekick. It's risky, he thinks, but he's confident that Jeremy likes him back and that their friendship will only grow and blossom into a beautiful relationship that will become a timeless entity tying the two together.   
  
"Earth to Michael."   
  
Michael blinks against his thoughts until Rich's scarred hand waving in front of his face takes center focus.   
  
"Christ, you've really got it bad for him." Rich breathes out through a low laugh, and when Michael tilts his head slightly in question, Rich sighs loudly. "You completely zoned out, and you had this stupid grin on your face. Thinking about Jeremy's dick?"   
  
Michael physically jerks away at the statement, back clashing hard against the lockers behind him. "What? No! I've never seen it!" He shouts truthfully despite the warm blush coloring the tips of his ears.   
  
Rich tosses both arms up and shoots Michael a stretched look of disbelief. "How have you two been friends this long and never shown each other your dicks? Hell, Jake and I whip 'em out all the time when we’re together!”  
  
Michael glances around the room, desperate for a witness to the words that just jumped confidently from Rich's tongue. "I'm not sure that's normal," Michael mutters, clasping his hands together and resting them in what he hopes is a casual manner in front of his crotch.   
  
"What even is normal?" Rich asks, flopping down into one of the plastic chairs with a loud creak. "Anyway, are you going to let me help you or not?"   
  
It's not a bad idea, Michael thinks. He had approached Rich this morning with his desire to get with Jeremy, thinking that Rich may be his best bet because the latter is publicly bi-sexual now. However, he'd be lying to himself if he said he isn’t slightly worried. Rich is known to be, well, blunt yet devious, a combination that typically yields mixed results.   
  
"What would you do?" Michael asks, voice soft with an underlining hint of curiosity.   
  
As if channeling a stereotypical villain, Rich's lips creep up into a mischievous smile. "Why don't you leave that to me?"   
  
"I-"   
  
"Shut it, Mell. I've got this."   
  
Michael's gaze lingers on Rich for a moment longer before he nods and starts out of the break room before he can talk himself out of whatever the hell Rich is planning.   
  
Just as he's pushing the swinging door open to exit, Jeremy is pushing it to enter. Their hands clap against one another, and Michael doesn't miss the way Jeremy jerks his hand back quickly.   
  
"Hey," Jeremy says quickly, gaze locked to the floor as he side steps to let Michael by.   
  
"Hi!" Michael chirps back, shooting Jeremy a wide smile before starting toward the store to start his shift while humming loudly.   
  
When he's sure it's safe, Jeremy steals a glance over his shoulder just as Michael turns a corner, disappearing from sight. He shakes his palm out as if he can shake the nerves of touching his best friend from his skin.   
  
He's beginning to grow frustrated at himself. Anytime Michael is around him now, he gets obscenely nervous, but why? Nothing's changed, and yet, he's been getting cold feet anytime the two are together.   
  
"Come to join me for lunch, Jer-Bear?"   
  
Jeremy shakes his head, pushing his currents thoughts in the far back of his mind. He imagines he's shoving them into a small vault labeled "to be dealt with later because you aren't fucking gay."   
  
"Didn't you just take a break?" He questions, arching one brow in Rich's direction.   
  
Rich shrugs and motions toward the chair across from him.   
  
"Do you ever work?" Jeremy questions through a light laugh before he turns his back to grab his lunch box from his locker.   
  
With no eyes on him, Rich's face falls. He stares hard at Jeremy's back as if there's a solution.   
  
_"Because I'm not gay..."_    
  
Rich leans his elbows against the tabletop and props his chin into one open palm. He's got his work cut out for him.   
  
*****  
  
Michael's heart is beating rapidly against his chest, so much that his lungs are struggling to take in air. But, he thinks through his hazy mind, that's okay because maybe then, he and Jeremy won't run out of air quickly.   
  
He wants so desperately to take his phone and text Rich that this is not helping, but his hands are shaking far too hard.   
  
"Rich! Goddammit!" Jeremy beats his fists against the janitorial closet door. He should have caught onto the suspicion when Rich called over the intercom for both he and Michael to go to the janitor's closet, but never in a million years did he think Rich would lock the two in.   
  
And now he's got Michael seconds from a full-blown panic attack pressed against his back. The closet is too small for two people, and Michael's trembling body is vibrating against his back. It's a frightening reminder and steady driving force to keep his fists pounding loudly against the door.   
  
"Rich! Open the fucking door!"   
  
_"Calm down, Jeremy. Customers are staring."_    
  
Jeremy frowns at the door. "Jake?!"   
  
_"Yep. How's it going?"_    
  
Anger flares hot across Jeremy's chest. "Oh, you know, just great really." The sarcasm is a piercing dagger within his tone. "I'm just hanging out in a closet with Michael, who's having a panic attack. Everything is fucking peachy."   
  
_"Sounds like fun."_    
  
Jeremy slams his fist down hard against the door, feeling the frame shake underneath the weight. "Jake, open the goddamn door! Michael is literally having a panic attack!"   
  
_"Oh, wait. You weren't joking about that?"_  
  
"Jake!" Michael yells, voice cracking as hot tears slide down his cheeks.   
  
_"Shit. Shit! Fuck! Hang on! I gotta get the key!"_    
  
The two hear Jake storm off, and moments later, the blessed sound of a key sliding into a lock fills the tiny closet. The door is pulled open, revealing a panting Rich with an equally out of breath Jake close behind him.   
  
"Is Michael-"   
  
Blinded by a heated anger that colors his vision red, Jeremy raises a fist and swings, knuckles sloppily clipping the side of Rich's jaw.   
  
"Michael and I are leaving for the day," he spits out, voice sharp, before shoving past Rich and starting toward the break room to gather his things.   
  
Rich rubs absently at his jaw. The punch didn't hurt in the slightest, but the shock of it leaves him feeling slightly breathless. He turns his attention toward Michael, who is stumbling out of the closet with wide, panicked eyes.   
  
"Not helping," Michael breathes out, voice shaking as hard as his limbs.   
  
"He did punch Rich for you," Jake adds, voice hopeful.   
  
Too tired to even question as to why the fuck Jake knows what's going on, Michael only offers the two a stern look before going off after Jeremy.   
  
Rich and Jake turn toward each other, and Rich clears his throat.   
  
"Jer-Bear should've asked his SQUIP to teach him how to throw a proper punch."    
  
*****  
  
Two days pass without incident, and Michael is just thinking that Rich has decided to stop the poor attempts at helping him get with Jeremy when he and Jeremy come to a sudden halt in the parking lot after a particularly long shift.   
  
"Why are Jenna, Chloe, and Brooke in your car?"   
  
Frantically, Michael pats his pockets, but the familiar jingle of his car keys never sounds out. "What the fuck?" He breathes out just as the car pulls up to them.   
  
Chloe, who is riding passenger, rolls the window down. "We are borrowing your car, okay?"   
  
"What?" Michael asks, voice surprised. "How did you get my keys?"   
  
Brooke rolls her window down from her seat behind Chloe. "Rich gave them to us!"   
  
Tension sets in Michael's jaw.   
  
"I'll drop it off at your house later, kay?" Jenna chirps out from her spot behind the wheel right before she slams her foot on the gas, tires squealing against asphalt as she takes a sharp turn and books it out of the parking lot.   
  
"You don't even like PT Cruisers!" Michael shouts despite knowing the three girls can't hear him.   
  
"Why the hell did Rich give them your keys?" Jeremy asks. He's exhausted, and he's not looking forward to the long walk home in this stifling heat.   
  
Michael only grunts in response as his thumbs move rapidly across his phone.   
  
_[To: Lit Rich] Not fucking helping_  
  
*****  
  
_"Sorry, Jeremy. Jenna and I aren't going to make it to the movies!"_  
  
Jeremy hums in understanding into his phone. "That's okay, Christine. Maybe next time."   
  
Michael freezes, handful of popcorn half-way to his mouth, as he watches Jeremy mutter a goodbye before hanging up the phone. "They aren't coming?"   
  
"No," Jeremy mutters, sinking back into his seat. The plan had been for the four of them to see a movie, but of course Christine calls at the last possible moment to cancel.   
  
A nervous feeling spikes across his chest when Michael absently brushes an arm against his while sliding a hand into his red jacket pocket to get his phone.   
  
"Well that's okay," Michael says, struggling to keep the excitement out of his tone. He shifts a side glance toward Jeremy, and, with the help of the bright theater screen, he catches sight of Jeremy swallowing nervously while slowly sinking further into his seat.   
  
Smiling, Michael scrolls on his phone until he finds Rich's chat.   
  
_[To: Lit Rich] okay this is helping_  
  
*****  
  
"I think I'm ready," Michael tells Rich in the break room the next day, voice holding an air of confidence that’s foreign to his typical tone.   
  
"Ready for what?" Rich questions as he unwraps his sandwich.   
  
"I think I'm ready to tell Jeremy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legit, I love you guys.


	4. Chapter 4

Another two weeks pass with no prime time presenting itself for Michael to tell Jeremy how he feels. Sure, he's tried plenty of times, but the mood has yet to feel right.   
  
Call him a hopeless romantic, but he wants the setting and vibe to he absolutely perfect because it's not every day that he confesses his love to his best friend. He's waiting for all of the puzzles pieces to snap into place, creating a scenic image with only two pieces yet to be filled. It's only then that Michael feels he can really tell Jeremy, and the two remaining pieces can click together to finish the picture.   
  
He contemplates asking Rich for assistance as he's crossing the parking lot to start his shift, but any lingering thoughts on his beginning love life come to a screeching halt when the store's double doors slide open, revealing a scene that very well could be dubbed as a modern retake of a chaotic scene from Game of Thrones.   
  
Each check-out line is backed up, and there are men and women shouting at employees as well as one another while waiting in line. The fireworks display toward the front entrance looks as if someone ran a bulldozer over it.  
  
Michael falls into a daze as the loud sounds rush over him like a tidal wave. A harsh, overwhelming feeling builds and forms before splitting into jagged pieces across his stomach. His heart beat drastically slows down as his surroundings shift into a hazy slow motion, as if everyone is moving, arguing, shopping underwater.   
  
"Michael!"   
  
As if suddenly breaking the surface of the ocean, all sound and color and speed come rushing back to Michael, so fast that he physically stumbles back and accidentally activates the sensor that leaves the double doors sliding open behind him.   
  
Rich races toward him, limp seeming more prominent to Michael's wide eyes.   
  
"Rich, what-"   
  
"About fucking time you showed up!" Rich shouts, face flushed as he absently rubs at his leg.   
  
Michael spares a quick glance to his watch. He's twenty minutes early. "What's going on?"   
  
"Fucking Wal-Mart jacked up their prices for fireworks, so everyone came racing in here like they have no goddamn time even though it's only June."   
  
Michael nods, feeling stress fill every crevice of his body even though he's just arrived. "What do you need?" He questions, eyeing Rich's leg nervously.   
  
"Relieve Jeremy. He's on register four."   
  
Michael follows Rich's pointing finger and spots Jeremy going through the basic motions of scanning items and bagging items, over and over as if on autopilot, but Michael doesn't miss the slump in Jeremy's shoulders or the slight tremble in the brunet's hands.   
  
"How long-"   
  
"Since you dropped him off. I'm gonna send him in the back to restock the fireworks for a bit. He needs a break." Rich turns on his heel and starts back toward the customer service desk, and one quick glance tells Michael that it's also backed up with a line that extends well down an aisle.   
  
Michael slips his vest over his work shirt and pockets his keys before raking his fingers through his hair. He makes his way toward Jeremy's register, pausing when he spots Jake speeding through items at register three.   
  
"Jake?" He asks, taking note of the multiple women eyeing Jake with devious stares.   
  
"Hey, Michael!" Jake chirps, and Michael shakes his head. Jake doesn't even look remotely phased by the madness. He's sporting a wide smile, and he appears to be charming every woman who goes to his register.   
  
"Are you going to get paid for this?" Michael asks, wondering why their manager doesn't just hire Jake.   
  
"Yep! Rich is taking me out to Sushi after work!"   
  
To each their own, Michael thinks as he offers a small wave and makes his way toward Jeremy. When he gets close enough, his lips curl down into a deep frown, and it's not because of the man currently yelling at Jeremy. It's because the latter looks pale, exhausted, as if he could drop dead at any moment. No wonder Rich wants Jeremy off the register.   
  
"Jeremy," Michael calls out lightly, and Jeremy jumps before snapping his gaze to the left, relief washing over his face as he locks eyes with Michael.   
  
"Michael," he breathes out. He's not sure if he's just that tired, but Michael looks like a beacon of light that's breaking apart black storm clouds. "Thank God."   
  
Michael smiles as he watches the tension break and crumble from Jeremy's shoulders until the latter is stumbling away from the register.   
  
"Where are you going, young man? We aren't finished here!"   
  
Jeremy tenses at the man's words, and Michael pats him on the shoulder.   
  
"Rich wants you in the back to restock fireworks. I'm taking over your register."   
  
Jeremy only offers one quick nod before turning sharply on his heel and maneuvering around customers just as Michael steps up to the register.   
  
"Good afternoon!" He tells the man as he picks up right where Jeremy left off, grabbing item after item and running each across the scanner before loading them into bags.   
  
"It will be a much better afternoon if you aren't as incompetent as that scrawny kid. Moved like a snail, I tell ya."   
  
It takes an impressive amount of will power for Michael to not tell this sorry excuse for a human being off. He clenches his teeth and offers a forced smile. "I'm sure he did his best, sir."   
  
The man before him falls silent at his slightly clipped tone, and he takes that as a victory as he finishes scanning the man's order.   
  
*****  
  
When Michael's shift ends, he moves slowly from the break room to the entrance, feet struggling to lift and fall as if wading through mud. He spots Rich and Jake, who appear to be arguing about Jake giving Rich a piggy-back ride out of the store, and offers a small wave of goodbye before stopping in front of the bench that Jeremy is curled up on, buried underneath Michael's jacket and fast asleep.   
  
"Jeremy," Michael says, leaning over to gently shake the brunet.   
  
Jeremy stirs and blinks tired eyes up at Michael, and even though Michael's seen Jeremy wake up plenty of times, it never fails to leave him feeling slightly breathless. He offers the brunet a soft smile. "Are you ready to go?"   
  
Jeremy wordlessly nods and slowly gets from the bench. For a moment, his surroundings sway, and he pegs it on standing up too fast as he finds his footing and starts following Michael out of the store.   
  
The two are silent as they cross the now empty parking lot to get to Michael's car, and the silence follows them as Michael drives to his house, working under the unspoken agreement that Jeremy will be spending the night.   
  
Neither utters a word until they are stowed away in Michael's room, both sprawled across Michael's bed without the energy to change out of their work attire.   
  
"Let's quit," Jeremy mutters, eyes glued to Michael's ceiling that's littered with various posters. He had not been expecting his day to go how it did, and it left him contemplating dropping everything and never going back.   
  
"We can't leave Rich hanging like that," Michael counters through a low yawn.   
  
Jeremy sighs loudly and sits up, planting his feet firmly on the ground. He stands and starts pacing back and forth across the width of Michael's room. "He should quit too!" He shouts, suddenly finding energy in the anger seeping into his blood. "I mean, who the fuck wants to put up with that shit? Before you got there, one lady cussed me out so hard because we didn't carry neon green fireworks! Who the fuck carries neon green fireworks!?"   
  
Michael shifts until he's perched on the edge of the bed, head bobbing from left to right as he follows Jeremy's quick pacing. He's not used to seeing Jeremy so angry, and he wants to help but isn't sure how.   
  
"And this one man stood there for five minutes telling me how I was never going to amount to anything in life because I couldn't break his hundred-dollar bill into ones!" Jeremy continues, heat spreading across his face as he recalls the older man's harsh words.   
  
"Jeremy-"   
  
"And, oh my God, Michael. This one woman comes in with like ten kids, and her kids were running around everywhere. Rich asked her three times to get her kids under control because they were disrupting other shoppers, but she said that her kids are angels and aren't acting out in the slightest. I swear I already had a headache, but her kids pushed it into a full-blown migraine."  
  
"Jeremy!"   
  
Jeremy pauses mid-step and snaps his gaze toward Michael. "What?" He asks, voice sharper than he meant.   
  
Michael takes no mind to Jeremy's harsh tone. "You are re-stressing yourself out," he points out softly, but despite his gentle tone, Jeremy only fires back harder.   
  
"Because we have to do this all again tomorrow! And the next day! Over and over, and I'm fucking tired, Michael! I can't even think straight because my head hurts so bad, and my fucking muscles hurt! My whole fucking body hurts!"   
  
Michael frowns at this. He sets his gaze toward Jeremy's tense shoulders, and an idea pops in his mind like a small bulb blinking to life above his head. He spreads his legs open and motions for Jeremy to come toward him.   
  
"Michael?" Nerves shoot up Jeremy's throat, and he swallows thickly. "What-"   
  
Michael tilts his head back and breathes out a loud laugh. "Jesus Christ, Jeremy," he starts, looking back toward his friend's blushing cheeks. "Come sit on the floor here and press your back against the bed. I'll give you a massage." He wiggles his fingers and arches one brow.   
  
Bad idea, Jeremy thinks. While he's sure that Michael's intentions are purely friendly, he doesn't want Michael to mistake this as something more. But, the mere mention of a massage leaves his knees feeling weak. He's unbelievably tired, and before he knows what's happening, he's nodding and sliding to the floor, with Michael's legs on either side of him.   
  
Michael digs his fingers into Jeremy's shoulders and begins moving and pushing against Jeremy's muscles in a slow, steady rhythm.   
  
Jeremy can feel Michael physically kneading away the tension from his shoulders, and a low moan absently slips past his pressed lips as he tilts his head back and drops it against Michael's left thigh.   
  
Michael's ears flare a bright red at the moan, and his heart flutters within his chest. Suddenly, a flash of his metaphorical puzzle jumps across his mind, and he watches as all of the pieces fall into place with only two empty spaces remaining: his and Jeremy's.   
  
The time is right, the setting is right, the mood is right, and yet, Michael can't think of a single, proper word to say to Jeremy. He glances down, hands still working against Jeremy's shoulders, and spots Jeremy's lips, a soft pink that contrasts Jeremy's pale skin and sharp cheekbones.   
  
He's moving before his mind as a second to process, leaning forward until his face is inches from Jeremy's. He doesn't breathe as he awkwardly cranes his neck to brush a feather light kiss to the corner of Jeremy's lips.   
  
Jeremy's eyes jerk open and he shoves away from Michael, stumbling to his feet and moving as far away from Michael as possible. "Dude, what the fuck?!"   
  
Michael's face collapses. His once fluttering heart is now a jackhammer repeatedly pounding against his chest as his lungs falter with each ragged breath. "I thought-"   
  
"That I was gay like _you_!?" Jeremy finishes for him, voice sharp and accusing. "I'm not, and I never will be!" Adrenaline courses through his body as he bolts up the stairs and out of the house.   
  
Above him, storm clouds color the sky, and a loud crack of thunder vibrates the trees as strong, cool wind whips across his trembling frame.   
  
"Jeremy!"   
  
Michael's voice shoots across the wind, and Jeremy, just barely off Michael's driveway, spins around to see Michael charging toward him, face pinched in anger.   
  
"Michael-"   
  
"No!" Michael shouts over the growing wind. "Save it, Jeremy!"   
  
Jeremy can't wrap his mind around why Michael is mad. He's the one who should be mad, not Michael. "I don't-"   
  
"You know, I get it now!" Michael shouts, interrupting Jeremy for a second time.   
  
"Get what?!" Jeremy fires back, lightning flashing across the sky behind his back.   
  
"That I'm never going to be enough for you!"   
  
Jeremy frowns at this, not in the least bit what he was expecting. "What-"   
  
"It all makes sense now!" Michael yells, voice borderline hysteric. Hot tears stream down his cheeks, yet he's mad, hurt, frustrated. "I should have known the day you said you wanted to buy a SQUIP that I'm never going to be enough for you!"   
  
Jeremy's shaking his head, but Michael's not having it.   
  
"I don't fit in your game!" Michael continues as thunder rumbles across the horizon. "I've never fit in your game! I'm always the side character pushing you along so you can succeed and leave me in the dust!"   
  
"That's not true!" Jeremy counters, ignoring the fat rain drop that hits his cheek.   
  
"Isn't it?!" Michael questions, voice throbbing from all the shouting. "Why else did you get the SQUIP, Jeremy?! You never have nor will you ever see me as anything more than just a stupid sidekick!" With that, he turns sharply on his heel and storms back into his house.   
  
Jeremy watches Michael leave while unconsciously shaking his head, over and over, as Michael's words bleed within his mind, leaving burning stains.   
  
Another loud crack of thunder sounds above him, and moments later, the sky opens and releases pounding rain that leaves Jeremy drenched in seconds.   
  
His eyes linger on Michael's closed front door. "It's not true..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /whispers "i'm sorry"


	5. Chapter 5

When Michael's alarm goes off early in the morning, he flips it off before burrowing back under his blankets as he wills sleep to take hold once more since he hadn't gotten much anyway.

While he had definitely tried to sleep the previous night, he couldn't get his mind to shut the hell up nor could he keep his heart from crumbling, piece by piece until there was nothing left but a hollow shell thumping weakly against his chest.

It wasn't until roughly three a.m. that he had managed to fall into a dreamless sleep, only to be pulled awake only three hours later by his alarm chirping for him to wake up and take Jeremy to work.

Like hell, he thinks to himself, rolling onto his side and drawing his knees to his chest, making himself impossibly small as if he can curl out of existence.

He assumes he's past the grieving stage because all he feels now is an unsteady anger washing over his body in steady waves, and he feels that he has a damn right to be fucking mad. He had been so sure that Jeremy liked him back, and yet Jeremy had pulled away from him as if he had the fucking plague."

_"That I was gay like you!?"_

Michael breathes out a biting laugh as Jeremy's harsh tone plays back in his ears. He's mad, furious even. He feels as if he's been played, over and over since the day he and Jeremy met that fateful day in the middle school cafeteria.

Regret begins to swell and form within his chest as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Never in a million years did he think he would ever regret befriending Jeremy, and yet here he is, hoping sleep will take hold to offer a brief bout of relief from his cursing thoughts running rampant against the gears that turn his mind.

*****

"Son?"

Jeremy freezes, fingers curled around the car door handle. He keeps his eyes glued to the passenger side window, not wanting to look back and bear witness to his father's sad eyes for the tenth time since he asked the older man to take him to work twenty minutes before.

Mr. Heere sighs. "Are you sure you want to go in? You really don't seem well."

Jeremy shrugs while coughing weakly into his fist. No, he thinks to himself. No, he doesn't want to go in. He's running on no sleep, and he feels absolutely terrible. But, he has to see Michael and tell him... Well, he hasn't exactly worked out what to tell him, but he still has to see him.

"I'm okay," he mutters before opening the car door and sliding out of his seat. For a moment, the ground beneath him tilts forward, but he steadies himself with a tight grip on the car door. He sucks in a few measured breaths before turning toward his father. "Are you okay to pick me up? If not, I can-"

"I'm picking you up," Mr. Heere says sharply, cutting his son off. "And if you need me before your shift ends, just call, okay?"

Jeremy nods before burying his face in the crook of his elbow as a rapid sneezing fit takes hold. When finished, he looks back up at his father's worried eyes while sniffling lightly.

"Jeremy-"

"I'm really okay," Jeremy interrupts before closing the car door and turning on his heel, no longer wanting to see the concern bleeding from his father as he starts toward the store.

To the left of the store’s entrance, Rich is smoking his morning cigarette when Jeremy approaches the double doors. Jeremy has plans to avoid talking to anyone except Michael, but Rich is on him impossibly fast.

"That wasn't Michael," Rich starts, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stomping on it as he follows Jeremy into the store. "What's going on? Is Michael okay?"

Jeremy breathes out a low sigh before turning until he's facing Rich, and Rich physically jerks back at the sight of Jeremy's pale, washed-out face that's only colored with a slight flush.

"Uh, are _you_ okay?" Rich asks, thoughts of Michael currently shadowed by the clearly sick boy standing before him.

Jeremy shakes his head while rubbing at his neck. His skin his warm against his palm, but he can't muster up enough energy to be too concerned. "I," he starts, pausing to cough harshly into the crook of his elbow, "I fucked up."

Rich frowns, worry taking center hold. "Okay, but should you be here right now? No offense, Jer-Bear, but you look like shit."

Jeremy shakes his head, frustration growing strong. "This isn't about how I feel!" He shouts, raised voice causing a deep coughing fit that leaves him doubled over for a few moments. When he's able to catch his breath, he straightens himself up and looks at Rich with trembling eyes. "I seriously fucked up!"

Rich glances around to check for customers before nodding slowly. "Okay, just," he pauses, eyes scanning Jeremy's now shaking form. "Just calm down, okay? Before you cough up a lung or something."

Jeremy nods, wrapping his arms around his shivering frame in a poor attempt to combat the sudden chills coursing through his body.

Sliding his phone from his pocket, Rich shoots a quick text to Jake to ask for help before he places a steady hand to Jeremy's back and leads the brunet toward the break room.

*****

"You did what!?"

Jeremy drops his head onto his folded arms with a groan. "I panicked," he whines, coughing weakly.

"So, you really aren't gay?" Rich asks, trying hard to wrap his mind around the situation Jeremy just explained to him from last night's events.

"No," Jeremy answers lowly. "Or, I don't know," he admits after a few moments of silence. He's not even sure about anything anymore other than the fact that he may have completely and utterly fucked everything he's ever had with Michael.

"You were an asshole to him," Rich points out, wondering how this entire situation derailed so fast. From Michael's apparent misjudgment to Jeremy's adamant denial, Rich is starting to get a headache that could give the one he's sure Jeremy is sporting a run for its money.

"I know," Jeremy mutters, voice hardly above a whisper. "What do I do?" He asks, lifting his head as a few small coughs slip past his lips.

Rich shakes his head. To be honest, he's not entirely sure what Jeremy can do right now other than figure his own shit out, but he's not sure how well that's going to go about with Jeremy in the condition he's in.

"Maybe you should go home for the day. I can have Jake cover for you."

"No," Jeremy says sharply, shoving away from the table to get to his feet. He ignores his swaying surroundings to the best of his abilities as he starts toward the door that leads back to the store. "I need to stay. I need to see Michael."

Rich bites back a counter-argument for a reply as he reluctantly follows Jeremy out to the store.

*****

Michael trudges through the sliding double doors. He doesn't want to be here, but he also doesn't want to spend the entire day moping in his room.

He offers a quick nod to Jake, who is once again behind a register, before he starts toward the break room, freezing when he spots Rich and Jeremy only a few feet away down an aisle.

"I called your dad, Jeremy."

Michael frowns at this. Why would Rich call Jeremy's dad? Mr. Heere is supposed to be at work.

"He's on his way to get you."

"Rich-"

"No, Jeremy. You're running a hell of a fever, and you don't need to fucking be here right now."

Fever? Michael closes the distance and clears his throat as a sign of entrance. When the two boys turn toward him, Michael can't keep the small gasp from slipping past his lips.

Jeremy looks like the actual definition of hell. His cheeks are colored a deep red that drastically contrasts his pale, almost hollow face, and he's shaking despite the sweat lining his temples.

"Michael!" Jeremy shouts, only to turn away to cough harshly over and over into his fist.

Michael's torn between comforting Jeremy with a hand to his back or staying put. The end result is a hand hovering over Jeremy's trembling frame until the latter catches his breath.

"I need to talk to you," Jeremy says, and Michael tilts his head and arches one brow, prompting Jeremy to get on with it since he knows that the brunet has probably already filled Rich in with the gritty details of last night.

Jeremy swallows thickly just as his heart begins to hammer hard against his chest. "I…

I don't.... I'm not sure what to say yet."

Michael laughs a sharp, biting laugh before shoving past Jeremy and Rich to get to the break room. He's done, he thinks to himself.

He's really fucking done.

*****

"Jeremy told me about last night."

Michael keeps his eyes trained on the window in front of him, watching with narrow eyes as Mr. Heere helps Jeremy into the car in the parking lot.

"You really went for it, huh?" Rich says almost jokingly despite his strained voice.

Michael shifts his eyes toward Rich slowly, gaze almost dangerous.

"Fuck off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the one chapter I did not have fully planned out, so writing it was a bit of a struggle. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!


	6. Chapter 6

_"Why are you so nice to me? No one else ever is."  
  
He watches as Michael's face briefly falls into a frown before shooting back up brightly. "Because I think you're cool!"_  
  
Jeremy groans and rolls onto his side, tugging his blankets up to his chin with a harsh cough. Before he knows it, he's falling back into a fitful sleep.    
  
_"Hey!"  
  
Both Jeremy and the red-head look toward Michael, and Michael allows a brief moment of fear when he spots the blood seeping out from Jeremy's hand that's cupped over his nose before anger takes center hold within his chest once more. He stalks up to the red-head with his hands curled into fists at his side, and then he swings._    
  
A frame-wracking sneezing fit pulls Jeremy from sleep once more. His shoulders shake with each sneeze, and when he's finally able to catch his breath, he's nodding off before his mind can even process a single thought.   
  
_Suddenly, Michael is charging toward him while pointing to the right, and Jeremy looks over to see a bright red mustang speeding straight toward him._  
  
_All at once. everything shifts into slow motion. Jeremy turns to see Michael gaining on him with tears streaming down his tan face. He can make out Michael yelling his name through sight alone because he suddenly can't hear anything except his heart pounding in his ears._  
  
_And then Michael's on him. Jeremy feels hands shove hard against his shoulders, and then he's flying back against hot pavement. The sounds of brakes screeching pierce his ears, and there's a dull thumping sound followed by screaming._  
  
_Just as if someone is pressing a fast-forward button, things quickly shift back into normal speed when Jeremy sits up with a wince to see Michael's motionless body lying in front of the mustang._  
  
"No!" Jeremy jerks into a sitting position, panting harshly as vivid images of Michael's motionless body dance across his fevered mind. His sharp gasps leave him doubled over in a coughing fit, and he coughs and coughs until his vision blurs and his lungs feel only seconds from bursting.   
  
It takes a solid five minutes until his coughing tampers off, but when it does, he drops back against his pillow, sparing one glance toward the clock before draping his arm over his eyes.   
  
Michael will be off work soon, he thinks to himself as an uncomfortable wave of heat prickles across his damp skin. He's not sure why that's his first, coherent thought since that ship has sailed because he ruined everything.

He pushed Michael away, but why?   
  
A light groan slips past his lips, and he moves his arm and curls back onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest as another round of chills build from his toes up to the top of his head.   
  
He likes Michael. A lot. He can't think of a time when Michael wasn't there him. Even to this day, Michael's always doing shit for him. He's always there, smiling, welcoming, warm.   
  
Jeremy suddenly shoots up into a sitting position, coughing weakly into his fist as his brows furrow, deep in thought.   
  
It's always been Michael, he thinks to himself. Even when he pushed Michael away under the influence of the SQUIP, Michael still saved his ass.   
  
His entire life is one giant crumbling painting, but it's Michael who picks up the paint brush and starts again on a new paper, swishing colors together to make Jeremy whole again.   
  
So, Jeremy asks himself. Why did he do it? Why did he push Michael away? Why did he ignore his heart?   
  
Like a light bulb flicking to life to brighten a dark room, the answer suddenly hits Jeremy, and he swings his legs over the bed and gets to his feet. His surroundings sway drastically, looking almost as if he's moving slowly underwater, but he fights against the dizziness to slip a pair of shoes on and exit his house as quietly as possible to not alert his dozing father.   
  
*****  
  
The walk to the store sucks Jeremy's energy like a leech. He's both ungodly hot and icy cold and has no idea how that's possible, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care that the ground beneath his feet keeps jerking and tilting, threatening to knock him on his ass. He doesn't care that his heart is beating so hard to where he's left coughing and gasping as he stumbles down the sidewalk. He doesn't care that he's gotten one too many odd looks from passing pedestrians. He doesn't care that dark spots keep dancing across his vision.   
  
He just doesn't care.   
  
All he cares about is making it on time.   
  
He has to make it on time.   
  
He has to see Michael.   
  
*****  
  
"Not to interrupt this little pity party, but the man of the hour is approaching us while borderline naked."   
  
Michael and Rich stop mid-sentence with furrowed brows before following Jake's pointing finger with narrowed eyes.   
  
"What the fuck?" Rich breathes out, jaw practically dropping to the ground.   
  
A loud gasp slips past Michael's lips. Sure enough, Jake was right. Michael’s gaze locks onto Jeremy, who is sporting only a pair of bright blue boxers and unlaced converses. He watches with wide, unbelieving eyes as the brunet staggers toward them, and when he's close enough, Michael breathes out a string of curses that could make a sailor blush.   
  
Jeremy looks mere seconds from passing out. His cheeks are a mad red that drastically contrast the strong tremors that have his limbs shaking like a newborn deer. His entire body his sporting an unhealthy sheen of sweat, and he's swaying dangerously with each step.   
  
"Michael!" Jeremy shouts before coughing harshly as he stumbles the remaining distance toward said boy.  
  
"Jeremy, what the fuck..?" Worry fills as a deep pit in Michael's stomach, overshadowing any negative thoughts he may have been previously holding toward the brunet.   
  
"I need," Jeremy gasps out in between deep, rattling coughs. "To talk," he barely finishes. Darkness pushes at the edge of his vision, and he knows now that he doesn't have much time left. But, he's got to do something.   
  
He leans forward suddenly and smashes his lips against Michael's, with just enough time before he's slumping toward the ground as everything goes black.   
  
"Jeremy!"   
  
"Fuck!"   
  
*****  
  
Jeremy comes to with a groan, surprised by the soft, weighted blanket draped over him.   
  
"You're awake."   
  
His eyes shoot open, and he shifts his gaze toward the right to see Michael seated in a chair beside his bed, worried face leaning toward him.   
  
"How are you feeling?" Michael asks, trying to keep his voice soft despite the relief flooding his tone.   
  
"Michael," Jeremy breathes out weakly. He searches through his pounding head for memories, but he's coming up short. Last thing he really remembers is leaving his house to get to the store with only pure revelation pushing him forward. "What...?"   
  
Michael sits back in the chair with a sigh. "You don't remember? Of course, you don't remember. How could you with a fever pushing 105?" He pauses, contemplating on whether or not he should open this can of hell; however, curiosity wins in the end, and he clears his throat. "You walked to the store, kissed me, then passed out."   
  
"I did?!" Jeremy asks, and Michael frowns at the eagerness.   
  
"Why are you so happy about this?"   
  
"Because," Jeremy says, pushing up on his elbows with a weak cough. "Because I want to be with you."   
  
"I don't want a sympathy relationship, Jeremy," Michael counters, knowing full and well that Jeremy's only doing this because he values their friendship.   
  
"It's not!" Jeremy shouts, only to sit up fully as a coughing fit tears up his throat. Each cough feels like shards of glass grating against his throat, and tears prick at his eyes when he's able to finally catch his breath. "Let me," he wheezes out, "explain."   
  
"Okay," Michael says all too quickly. "Just, calm down, okay?" He offers a bottled water to Jeremy, and Jeremy greedily takes it, sucking down gulps as he suddenly realizes he can't remember the last time he had a drink.   
  
When Jeremy sets the bottle down after drinking easily half of it in one sitting, he twists his body until he's fully facing Michael. "Listen, I want to be with you."   
  
"Then why did you push me away?"   
  
"Because I was scared."   
  
"Of what?"   
  
"Being mocked," Jeremy admits, and Michael frowns, face mirroring that of someone gravely confused.   
  
"Mocked why?"   
  
Jeremy's gaze drops to his hands, and he tugs absently at a loose thread hanging off his blanket as he swallows thickly. "Because of the SQUIP."  
  
Michael sucks in a sharp gasp, fear blinding him. "What?" He asks weakly, voice cracking slightly as his entire body goes tense.   
  
Jeremy looks up and shakes his head rapidly in a poor attempt to combat Michael's fear. "Not like that. It's not back, I swear. It's because of the reason I got the SQUIP."   
  
"To be cool?" Michael asks, still afraid but blaringly confused as well.   
  
"Yes," Jeremy replies quietly. "For Christine."   
  
Michael shakes his head. "I don't understand," he admits, struggling to catch onto Jeremy's thought process.   
  
Sighing, Jeremy wraps his arms around himself and shoots his gaze back down toward the bed. "The whole reason I got the SQUIP was to be cool so Christine would like me, so _a girl_ would like me. And, I was afraid that if I went along with my feelings of liking you that I would be mocked for going through that entire SQUIP mess just to end up liking you."   
  
"No one will mock you for being gay, Jeremy."   
  
"I'm not-" Jeremy starts, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to form words. "I'm not like gay gay. I think. I mean I still like girls, too. I think."   
  
"That's called bisexual, Jer-Bear."   
  
Both Jeremy and Michael jump and look toward the door way, where Rich is leaning against the door frame with an easy smile.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Jeremy asks, brows furrowed.   
  
"Someone had to help Michael carry your ass to his car."   
  
Michael sighs. "You didn't even help. Jake did."   
  
"Jake's here?" Jeremy questions, and seconds later, Jake pops up from behind Rich.   
  
"Hey, Jeremy! Glad to see you are awake and finally embracing your true sexuality!"   
  
"Jesus Christ," Jeremy mutters at the same time Michael shoots the two a sharp, pointed look.   
  
"Can you two leave?"   
  
Rich nods, smile widening. "Of course. You two lovebirds play nice now, okay?"   
  
Michael glares until the door shuts, and then he turns back to Jeremy, carefully selecting his next words. "What do we do?"   
  
Jeremy shakes his head. "I do want to be with you, Michael. I know I probably fucked everything up, but-"   
  
"Stop." Michael says, holding a hand out. His shoulders slump, and he leans forward, bracing his elbows atop his knees. "We could try? Test the waters? And, if it doesn't work, just go back to normal without ruining our friendship."   
  
Jeremy perks up at this, chest swelling with a warmth that's not associated with his fever. "Yeah?" He asks, voice soft.   
  
Michael can't keep the smile creeping up at his lips. He has no fucking idea how this is going to go, but fuck it. He really fucking likes this tall, absolute idiot with more than any word could ever truly describe.    
  
"Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things: 
> 
> \- the dreams Jeremy has at the beginning are taken from one-shots I've written for BMC (which can all be found in my "A Series of H/C One-Shots for Be More Chill" compilation fic as well as on my Tumblr.) (shameless promotion lmao)
> 
> \- the seventh and final chapter is an Epilogue
> 
> \- you guys fucking rock my world and I will leave a sappier message of thanks when we conclude this journey :)


	7. Epilogue

*One Month and 29 Days Later*

 

Jeremy normally doesn't spend long getting ready in the morning, but today's different. His nerves had him up at five a.m., and he's been out of bed and making himself look decent ever since. 

After he showered, he spent a solid twenty minutes combing his short hair, parting it left, then right, then down the middle, but nothing felt right. So, he combed his fingers through his hair like he normally does and moved to his closet, where he now stands staring at his poor fashion choices with a low sigh.   
  
The many hangers hold polos and cardigans. It's a safe look, he thinks, but he's not sure he wants to be safe today because today is different, bigger than any other regular day.   
  
He opts for a soft green shirt that looks as if it's been dipped slightly in a subtle grey, an almost clear match to his eyes. The sleeves are quarter sleeves, still bold since he normally hides behind a cardigan but not daring enough to where he's left feeling uncomfortable.    
  
He combines this with a clean pair of jeans and has just enough time to slip his cons on before he hears the echo of a familiar car horn that, for the first time, leaves his heart thumping loudly against his chest.   
  
Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, he spares one final glance to his bedroom mirror, carding his fingers once more through his soft brown locks before he's taking the steps downstairs two at a time.   
  
When he pulls the front door open, his heart flutters inconsistently against his chest, and his breath catches in his throat when he spots Michael leaning against his signature golden PT Cruiser, eyes closed and head tilted up toward the soft pink morning sky with his beats undoubtedly pulsing loud music in his ears.   
  
Jeremy's cheeks are already flushing a bright red when he hops down the steps and closes the distance between the two. Michael has yet to acknowledge him, unsurprisingly lost within the loud, pulsing music, so Jeremy curls his fingers into a fist and knocks his knuckles lightly against Michael's chest.   
  
"Abuse already?" Michael questions, voice teasing as he slips his headphones around his neck and tilts his gaze to meet Jeremy's.   
  
Jeremy shrugs, lips pulling up into a soft smile that contrasts the nerves building and dancing throughout his body. When Michael leans toward him, his nerves jolt like a shock of electricity down his spine, and his eyes flutter closed, slightly trembling lips welcoming Michael's steady warm ones in a soft kiss that lasts only a few moments before Michael pulls away with a slight frown.   
  
"You're nervous." He tells Jeremy, voice low but giving off a slight hint of concern.   
  
"I'm okay," Jeremy lies, and Michael breathes out a slight huff.   
  
"You're a shitty liar. Are you having second thoughts-"   
  
"No!" Jeremy steps away until he can see Michael clearly, but he keeps his hands pressed firmly against Michael's shoulders. "I want to do this."   
  
Michael considers this with furrowed brows. He's gotten really good at reading Jeremy, so he takes in the tensed shoulders and stick-straight back with concern. "Jeremy-"   
  
"We are doing this," Jeremy interrupts, dropping his hands and rubbing his slightly sweaty palms up and down his jeans. "Besides, I know Jake told Jenna, so the whole school probably knows by now."   
  
"Are you worried what people will say?" Michael questions, tilting his head slightly as he scans Jeremy's eyes for an answer, but Jeremy only shrugs.   
  
"Doesn't matter as long as you're here," he admits, shifting his gaze to his worn shoes as a blush paints across his cheeks.   
  
"Then let's go conquer the world," Michael says before he turns around and opens the passenger side door for Jeremy.   
  
*****  
  
Jeremy thought he had it mostly together, but when he and Michael get out of his car with the school looming over them, his togetherness crumbles, resulting in slight, nervous tremors that he fails to hide.   
  
"Jeremy," Michael says, voice firm despite the blaring trace of worry. "I don't mind keeping this just between us."   
  
Jeremy eyes all of the returning students trudging up the school steps, not quite eager to start yet another long year. He swallows the clump of nerves blocking his throat and shakes his head, mentally telling himself that he doesn't care if people mock him for being an idiot with the SQUIP since he's had the best thing with him always.   
  
"Let's do this," he tells Michael, sliding his faintly trembling hand into Michael's, and Michael laces their fingers together and offers a tight squeeze.   
  
The two walk up the steps and enter the old building, and they are instantly met with the familiar sight of students chattering and crowding around lockers. Only a few passing students spare the two a glance, but none say anything about their locked hands.   
  
Michael takes lead, pulling Jeremy toward the brunet's locker, and when they manage to shove past the masses of students, they spot Rich leaning against the set of lockers beside Jeremy's.   
  
"Well hello, you beautiful gays," Rich says with a sing-song tone.   
  
"We've talked about this," Michael tells Rich as Jeremy opens his locker. "Jeremy's bi."   
  
"Details," Rich says with a shrug. When Jeremy shuts his locker and Michael resumes his position at his side, Rich rolls his head to face the two, lips pulling up in a sharp, devious grin.   
  
"Now that it's been over a month," Rich starts with a serious voice, a blaring contrast to his teasing grin. "I have to ask."   
  
"What?" Jeremy asks, relaxing against Michael's side.   
  
"Who's got the bigger dick?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we've reached the end of this little journey. I just want to tell you guys something that's going to sound really stupid and cheesy, but fuck it. 
> 
> I've always wanted to have a fic on the first page of ao3 when filtered by kudos, and you guys made that happen with this fic. I don't know how long it will last, but that doesn't matter because I was able to see, at least once, a fic on the first page. 
> 
> You all heavily exceeded my expectations with your positive responses, and I just want to say I love all of you. 
> 
> Thanks for coming on this little journey with me!

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr! (@toosicktoocare)


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